Stranger Than Fiction
by LiquidLash
Summary: Tiffany Summers thought she was the world's biggest Torchwood fan, but now she thinks she's found one bigger. Jack Harkness thinks he's found trouble.
1. OMGWTFBBQROFLCOPTER

**Author Note:** This fic is set... er... okay, I actually can't answer that. And I really can't explain it either. Just know that a bottle of cider went into this fic and it may only make sense to you, dear reader, if you too are slightly sloshed...

All beloved praise to my dear friend and fellow Torchwood addict Rachel (better know as Galadriel1010) for filling me in on bits of needed Torchwood info and laughing at me when I had to backspace every third word. Vintage reserve cider should be used with caution.

**Disclaimer:** Jack, Ianto, Owen, Gwen, Tosh and even Myfanwy belong entirely to Russel T Davies, even if he does kill them off. Tiffany Summers is mine, hands off.

* * *

**Part One: OMGWTFBBQROFLCOPTER**

The search was not going well. Tiffany cursed herself for ever thinking to bring Jack and Ianto here of all places. Cardiff Bay was a tourist hotspot, no one in their right minds brought a pair of excitable Labrador puppies to a tourist hotspot.

Tiffany reflected that she could never be called right-minded in any case.

Ianto pulled on her leash, wanting freedom, wanting to explore. They had just moved onto searching the Roald Dahl Plass when Tiffany lost her temper, the frustration of the past few hours boiling over.

"Jack? Jack! You get back here this instant or I swear you'll be eating that nasty tinned stuff tonight!"

Tiffany passed the infamous Water Tower. A thought occurred to her as she gazed at her own watery reflection. She still had Jack's collar, perhaps Ianto could help track him down? She kneeled before the brown haired dog, putting the collar in front of Ianto's nose.

"Good girl, you gonna help me, yeah?"

Ianto whined; her head whipped around, catching a scent.

"Good girl! Come on, help me find Jack."

A man appeared around the other side of the monument. "This yours?" he asked in an American accent. A black Labrador was sniffing at his heels.

"Jack bloody Harkness, you get away from him right now!"

The man paused, cocking an eyebrow. "I only want to return your dog, no harm meant."

Tiffany checked herself. "Sorry, sorry. He has a habit of eating shoes, I didn't want your—" Tiffany peered down. "Hmm, your rather nice brown boots to be ruined."

In the shadow of the fountain Tiffany saw the man give her a brilliant grin. She smiled back, if timidly.

The black Labrador spotted Ianto and ran at her. The pair scuffled for a while. Tiffany felt both relieved and embarrassed. This man had helped her and all she could do was grin like an idiot at her fighting dogs.

But then the man walked forward, out of the shadows, and Tiffany froze.

"J—John Barrowman?" she whispered.

The grin disappeared for one moment before returning in confusion. "Who?"

"You're John Barrowman. My God, you're even wearing the coat!" Dogs forgotten, Tiffany rushed forward. "Can I have a picture? No one at home will believe this. Are you shooting another series—" Tiffany's face fell. "Never mind, not after Ianto. I doubt they could rewrite_ that_. Anyway, hi!"

The man had been watching her in disbelief but when she mentioned the name 'Ianto', his brows furrowed. Who _was_ this girl, and what did she know?

"I can wholeheartedly assure you I am not 'John Barrowman', young lady," he said, wondering if the girl had ever spent much time on Planet Sane. "Nice name though."

Tiffany stopped herself babbling and said, "You what?"

"Captain Jack Harkness, pleased to meet you. You might be?"

Tiffany stared at the outstretched hand. Numbly, she became aware he wanted her to shake it; she did so. A leather strap hidden under his sleeve caught her attention. "Oh wow, even the wrist strap..."

The man's grin became ever more fixed. "Pardon?"

"Or what was the name? Vortex Mapper, Vortex—"

"Manipulator," the man finished, no longer smiling.

"That was it," Tiffany said weakly. The guy was clearly a loon, if a very well researched one, and obviously a bigger Torchwood fan than her. But he looked so much like—

"Jack!" Tiffany shouted, and the black Labrador cringed, backing away from the other dog. "How many times, eh? Stop asserting your dominance over Ianto!"

The man did a double take. Then burst out laughing. Tiffany turned back round to glare at him; she fell short as she saw the obvious mirth and amusement twinkling in his eyes. It would be impossible to hate this man, she was sure.

He looked so much like—

"You still haven't told me your name," the man pointed out.

"Summers, Tiffany Summers."

"Well, Summers, Tiffany Summers, how about you tell me how you know what my wrist strap is?" He lightly tapped the small, leather bound machine.

Tiffany gave him an odd look. "Because it was on the telly? Because I watched Torchwood religiously when it was on?"

The man folded his arms across his chest, measuring her up. "You know about Torchwood?"

"Sure. Air dates, car models, character birthdays, everything. Absolutely everything."

A water filled silence descended. The man regarded Tiffany. "Really everything? I don't think you do." But that didn't stop him taking another step closer. Tiffany became aware that the plaza was steadily becoming deserted, and tried not to feel as if she should back away. Tiffany also felt that she had to prove herself.

"Torchwood," she said. "Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato. Suzie Costello is hopefully still in the vault, and Myfanwy roosts in a half blocked pipe at the top of the Hub."

The man seemed to be staring at her with a mixture of shock and awe. "You know the pterodactyl's name?"

"She's a pteranodon, technically," Tiffany felt obliged to add. "And she likes dark chocolate. It's her favourite."

"Just how could you know that, Tiffany Summers?"

"Because I'm a fan and an addict. Aren't you? You have to be, your outfit is spot on. I still adore that coat..."

The man chuckled, running a hand through his dark brown hair. "Summers, Tiffany Summers, I think you're going to have to come with me."

That brought Tiffany up short. "Excuse me?"

"You obviously know a lot about us, so you know what's going to happen now." He began to advance on her. She backed away.

"'Us'?" she repeated. "What is this, some kind of Mega-Torchwood cult— Hey! Get your hands off Ianto!"

The man had grabbed Ianto's leash and was entwining the material around his wrist. "It doesn't look like you're going to be taking me seriously, Tiffany. I'm just going to take..." He repressed a chuckle. "Ianto here for a little walk. Feel free to join us."

Then he turned away, Ianto and Jack following at his heels. Tiffany cursed herself for not getting more faithful dogs and jumped off the stone step to follow after the fast-paced man.

***

She'd lost sight of them. Tiffany couldn't believe it. Her dogs had been kidnapped by a maniac in a lush coat and it was all her fault for indulging him. And now her feet _really_ hurt, she'd been walking for hours. First to find that damned dog, and now this.

Tiffany was so wound up with worry and anger that she almost walked past the suited man sitting on an upturned barrel.

Then she stopped.

And stared.

"Hmm," the new man said, standing up and straightening his tie. "Well, you look normal, that's for sure, but appearances can be rather deceiving in this place." He smiled and turned around, indicating she should follow him to an innocuous looking door. "After you," he said, pushing it open.

Tiffany walked inside and nearly fainted. It all looked so real! Stuff the dogs, if this Mega-Torchwood Cult stuff was true, they had better let her join...

The door closed behind her.

Tiffany heard the locks slide.

She gulped.

The man walked around her to sit behind that dearly familiar desk. "Tiffany Summers, I presume? My name's Ian—"

"Ianto Jones," Tiffany whispered. "Are you sure it's not Gareth David-Lloyd? Pretty please?"

Ianto Jones gave her a politely confused smile. "I don't think so. Could check all my records though, if you wanted to be sure."

She knew he was joking with her, but all that escaped her mouth was a breathless squeak. Ianto frowned, glancing at the screen, and then his hand reached under the desk and Tiffany just knew there would be a small grey button waiting to be pressed...

A section of grimy wall on the opposite side of the wall slid over, revealing an ominous looking corridor. Tiffany didn't know whether to blanch or jump with ecstasy.

"Well, go on. Don't keep him waiting."

Tiffany jumped, cramming her knuckles into her mouth to keep from squealing. The _line_. He'd used _the_ line. Trying her best not to squeak, Tiffany hurried through the door in the wall.

Ianto cocked an eyebrow. What a strange girl.

He tapped his comms. "She's on her way, Jack. You'd better explain yourself. She seems half possessed. Thought I was this Gareth guy or something."

"You know she's named her dogs after us?"

"Has she indeed?"

"Yeah. You're the female."

Ianto didn't respond. He got up from his office chair and hit the button to open the wall again, striding to catch up with Tiffany. He did not want to miss this.

***

Tiffany stopped at the circular, peg-toothed door. Was it real? Her fingers reached out to touch it. Cold metal. Her knuckles rapped on it, producing a very real sounding 'clang'.

All of a sudden, it rolled aside. Lights flashed, sirens flared. Tiffany could see Jack just beyond the metal cage that encapsulated the doorway to the Hub. Ianto appeared a few feet behind her.

"You rang?" Jack said, cheeky as ever. "I'd give you the big welcome, but apparently you've seen it all before?"

"Not in the flesh, per say. It's so _big_..."

A short, black haired woman peered out from behind her set of computers, wanting to see the what was going on: Toshiko Sato.

"You know my name?" Toshiko asked.

Tiffany realised she'd spoken out loud. "Err. Yes. Err." Oh well, one last attempt couldn't hurt. "But it isn't Naoko Mori, just on the off chance, is it?"

Tosh shook her head, bemused.

Jack watched Tiffany with curiosity in his eyes. "Want to look around?"

Priorities, priorities, Tiffany thought. Priority one: get dumb dogs out of fictional character's keeping. Priority two: squeal and fangirl over Ianto, Tosh and Owen for still being alive. Priority three: get proof. No one will believe this back home.

"Yep," she said in a strained voice. "Sure."

Jack had starting to walk away when she called out, "What about my dogs?"

"They're safe. Come on."

Tiffany followed Jack as they trailed around the Hub, eventually coming before the well-worn sofa by the medical area. She looked around as if realising something.

"Where's Gwen?"

Jack's fingers twitched. "Not here."

Some measure of silence descended. Tiffany could hear beeps and the light chuntering of all the machines and computers. She wondered just how much energy all of this used, and she wondered how she was going to get out.

***

Tosh watched from behind her computer desk, eyes flicking from the screen to Tiffany and back.

"I was born in London Bridge hospital," Tiffany said, staring at Tosh, "if that helps at all." The Japanese woman shot her a small, mischievous grin and typed this in. The grin disappeared.

"No record," said Tosh. "No Tiffany Summers' have born in London Bridge for the last fifty years, or in any other London hospital."

"She could have been born somewhere else, don't rely on her accent. Check everywhere."

Tiffany flinched on the sofa. What did they mean 'no record'? She'd seen the birth certificate herself. "London accent," she mused. "I wonder if I sound like Rose."

Abruptly, Tiffany realised she'd been talking out loud again. This was starting to turn into a bad habit; Jack was glaring. No one else seemed to have noticed her comment, or at least they hadn't reacted to it. Why would they? thought Tiffany. Who apart from Jack even knew who Rose was?

Jack Harkness towered over her. The effect was quite terrifying.

"I've had enough of your games, Tiffany Summers. You know too much."

"Err, I'm sorry?" She had a bad feeling about this.

"Get up. Now."

"Jack," Tosh chided. "Don't be like that."

"Stay out of it, Toshiko." To Tiffany, he said, "Up."

Tiffany stood. Her hands were shaking. If this was really _really_ real, then she was in trouble. _Real _trouble.

Tiffany saw Jack's eyes glance over her shoulder and he gave a fractional nod. She stiffened and turned in time to see Owen standing behind her, hand raised.

"Burn Gorman?" she asked in hope.

He brought down the syringe. "Not really, sweetheart."

Before she could move, Tiffany felt the slight metal pierce her skin and everything turned black.

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**Secondary author note-ness:** Please tell me what you think! (I may wish for them, but those mind-reading powers are still proving elusive)


	2. Milk, No Sugar

**Author note:** Upon reaching the end of this chapter, the word 'stuff' lost all meaning to me. Like saying 'gum' over and over and over and—

I've made my point. Anyhoo: Tiffany's adventure continues in this less-cider-fuelled (I promise; see how much more sane that title is?) chapter and I hope you enjoy!

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**Part Two: Milk, No Sugar**

Tiffany woke in murky gloom. Something was shuffling off to her left and she reached out to hit it away. Probably Adrian come to bother her before her alarm went off, the little rat bag.

Tiffany fell out onto a cold, damp floor and the memories from before returned with a nasty jolt. Her side and head ached.

Not a dream then, she told herself. Not even a nightmare.

Tiffany heard the hiss of a Weevil she knew couldn't possibly exist and she hoped it was all a nightmare; nightmares ended. This 'situation' looked set to last some time.

A polite cough sounded, like someone trying to be heard whilst at the same time not and Tiffany glared up from the floor, freezing for what felt like the twentieth time in one day.

Gwen Cooper smiled at Tiffany before saying, "Hello there."

Tiffany responded by blinking. She had the entire set now, bar the technically-a-pteranodon Myfanwy.

"General opinion has it," Gwen said, tilting her head as she looked down, "that you're probably not going to call me by my actual name."

Feeling numb, Tiffany shook her head.

"No?"

"I totally would not attempt to call you Eve Myles. Not at all. Not one bit."

Gwen gave small, soft laugh and crouched to draw herself level with Tiffany's face. "Glad to see you haven't given up yet."

Tiffany tried to smile back. The result was a near grimace. She curled up, staring at her knees, and whispered, "I don't understand what's happening."

"Neither do we, pet." Gwen sat down, mirroring Tiffany in the plexi-glass. "All we know is suddenly there's this girl wandering around who knows practically everything there is to know about our organisation, our _secret_ organisation I might add, and the records are saying she doesn't even exist." The Welshwoman laid a hand on the glass. "Who are you, Tiffany?"

Tiffany looked up, finally meeting Gwen's eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to answer. She didn't really _have_ an answer. What was the truth worth now that the entire world had turned topsy-turvy?

"I'm Tiffany Summers," she said slowly. "I was born on the twelfth of August, nineteen eighty-nine in London Bridge Hospital. My mum's name is Sylvia, my dad's was Michael before he died, and my five year old brother is called Adrian and he's a pain in the arse, not that I don't love him and want to get back to him."

"Of course, of course," Gwen murmured. "Where do you three live, then? What were you doing in Cardiff?"

"I was staying with friends—" Tiffany stopped, her mind racing all of a sudden. What would they think? How long had she been missing? Were they worried?

Gwen rapped the glass, getting her attention. "Stay with me, love. Who were your friends?"

"My friends _are_ Janice Scott and Dafydd Williams. They live a few streets away. Go and check it out. They're probably even in the phone book, it might be quicker."

Gwen laughed before rising to her feet and brushing off her hands. "I'll be back in a while, you just sit tight while we try to get this thing sorted."

The Weevil in the next cells hissed and Tiffany flinched. She'd hated that noise even over the television. Gwen looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "We'll try and get it sorted soon, alright?"

Tiffany just nodded, but then a thought occurred to her and she called at Gwen's retreating back. Gwen turned and said, "Yes?"

"You haven't got like a piece of paper and a pen have you? I'm going to die of boredom in about thirty minutes down here."

Gwen's eyebrows shot up. When she pushed some about-to-be-recycled-anyway inventory forms and a scrappy ball point pen through the slot in the door, Tiffany suspected she was doing it out of shock.

The door to her line of cells shut and then Tiffany was alone with her thoughts. She sat back on the bench-cum-bed and began to doodle.

***

"Jack, you should see this."

Jack Harkness looked up from Tosh's computer screens which were showing an utter lack of information about Tiffany Summers or any of her apparently beloved family. There were many Janice Scott's and Dafydd Williams', but none where Tiffany had said. The girl was a liar, if a very good one to provide all the details Tiffany had.

Gwen grinned at the CCTV, Ianto stood beside her, barely repressing a smirk. Jack walked to see what the fuss was.

Scribbling on the sheets of paper to form large and hopefully legible letters, Tiffany had written:

I COULD MURDER A COFFEE, IF ANYONE'S MAKING ONE.

Jack's lips twitched at the corners.

"Well, is she allowed?" asked Gwen. "It's not like the Weevils ask for room service."

"Heaven forbid if they did," Ianto said, "I'd bet they give horrible tips."

Jack gave in and laughed. "Get her one. Take a few biscuits too."

Ianto turned to look at his boss and, with all seriousness, said, "Plain digestive or chocolate chip, sir? I'd advise plain; we wouldn't want her taking liberties."

Just as serious, Jack replied, "Chocolate chip. Then bring me some. On a ridiculously tiny plate."

Ianto's eyelids lowered a little. "Your wish is my command, sir." He headed toward the coffee machine.

The words 'Oh gods, not again' drifted faintly from the medical bay, where Jack suspected Owen was listening to every word.

Gwen looked at Jack and frowned. Jack saw this and frowned back, just for good measure.

"She's just a frightened girl, Jack."

"You know," the older man mused, "the last time you said that, the 'frightened girl' turned out to be a sex crazed homicidal pink cloud bent on overtaking its human host."

Gwen blinked slowly and then walked away muttering, "Everyone's a critic."

***

Tiffany didn't look up when the cell row door opened, she was too busy trying to remember how to draw. Her attempts at sketching Jack and Ianto (the dogs) from memory had proved interesting to say the least; she was positive Jack really would look better with only three legs.

The sound of clinking crockery roused her, though, and Tiffany raised her head to see a fully laden tray hovering by the plexi-glass.

"Good afternoon," Ianto said, bending down and trying not to get his suit on the dusty floor. He put the tray by the rectangular shaped hole at the bottom of the cell door and frowned; it wasn't going to fit. He looked at her quizzically. "Are you planning on holding me to ransom with a chocolate digestive so as to make good your escape, by any chance?"

Tiffany pursed her lips; shook her head.

"Positive? Because if you are, I'll need warning and perhaps a napkin. Crumbs would ruin this shirt."

"I promise."

"Good." Ianto walked away and hit the switch that would open Tiffany's cell door.

Tiffany stared at the empty space that just whispered to her of the possibilities of freedom and some semblance of sanity...

She shut her eyes, sliding along the bench to get herself into the far corner. Ianto placed the tray just inside the cell, not letting his gaze off her.

When Tiffany looked again, the door was still open and Ianto had somehow produced a camping chair and was sitting on it, sipping at his own coffee. Tiffany took hers and sat back, drinking in the sight of a still living, perfectly healthy Ianto Jones (plus coffee). It was a wonder she didn't collapse with pure joy. If the stopwatch emerged, however, there'd be no knowing what she'd do. It'd probably be embarrassing in any case.

"Not thirsty?"

"Not at all. This was all a covert ruse to allow me to take you prisoner with just the use of one serviette and a silver spoon."

Ianto's lips quirked and he took another sip of coffee. Tiffany tried some of hers and nearly melted with just how good it really was.

***

Jack stared at the monitor. "What is he doing?"

Tosh joined him. "Having a chat, looks like. She's waving her hands around a lot, I wonder what she's saying." Toshiko looked closer at the screen, noticing something about the tray on the floor between Ianto and Tiffany. She checked her phone. She smiled.

Jack ignored this, his own curiosity piqued. "Tosh, can you bring up the audio on— Tosh?"

The woman was already gone.

***

Ianto shook his head. "Nah, don't believe you. There can't be _that_ much hype about the two of us."

Tiffany put down her mug. "There is! You have whole websites – whole fandoms, in fact – devoted to you."

"Like what?"

Tiffany blushed. "Err... you know... stuff."

"'Stuff'?"

"Stuff. _Stuff _stuff."

Ianto paused. Tiffany saw his Adams apple bob. "_Stuff_ stuff? Like, _stuff_ stuff stuff? _That_ stuff?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Good heavens."

"Yeah..."

"Any of it worth reading?"

Tiffany choked on the remains of her coffee, managing to gracefully snort some out of her nose. Ever the gentleman, Ianto offered her the last napkin. The rest had all been used as tools to help Tiffany describe what Torchwood was to _her_.

A few minutes ago, Ianto had written the words 'Tosh' and 'Mobile' on one of Tiffany's pieces of paper before texting something on his phone. At the time Tiffany hadn't cared to ask but now, as the cell block door swung open again, she though she understood.

This was turning into one hell of a coffee break.

"Didn't feel like coffee so I brought down some tea," Toshiko said as she walked in. "Hope you don't mind."

Ianto, with some difficulty, attempted to get out of his camping chair and offer it to Tosh. She waved him away, sliding onto the floor and folding her legs to sit with tea cup outstretched. She regarded Tiffany.

"Tell Tosh, go on."

Tiffany blanched. "No, I'd rather not..."

"Tell me what?"

Ianto turned to her. "According to this young lady, Torchwood is a television series where people watch our exploits and there are giant fandoms all over the internet devoted to us. Quite a number to me and Jack, apparently." He supped at his coffee in what Tiffany thought was a rather smug manner. "You and Owen have some too, according to her."

When Toshiko's face coloured, Tiffany wanted to die. This was no way to be treated. Tosh was so... "Why did you tell her that?" Tiffany glared at Ianto.

Ianto became the very picture of innocence. "Tosh, love, it's not like we all here don't know."

Toshiko looked up, mortified. "You... you do? What about Owen, does he—"

Tiffany's mind flicked back to the moment where, on screen, she had watched Toshiko and Owen save the world at the cost of their own lives. She made up her mind. "He doesn't," Tiffany told her, and Toshiko looked so grateful that Tiffany felt bad for her little lie. Ianto merely raised an eyebrow at her, knowing the truth but not saying otherwise.

"Pretty much everyone wants you to be together," said Tiffany, "if it's any consolation."

By the way Tosh smiled into her tea, it obviously was.

"What's this, a garden party?"

Owen appeared, leaning nonchalantly in the doorway. Tiffany saw Toshiko hunch a little more over her tea and felt immense guilt sweep through her system.

Owen continued, "Did I have to bring something or is everyone invited?"

Annoyance replaced the guilt in Tiffany's mind. She'd hated his sarcasm on screen, there was no way she could ignore it now.

"You have to bring something," said Tiffany. "But you haven't, oh dear, what a shame." Tiffany got a wry smile from Ianto for that.

Gwen popped up behind Owen holding a heavy looking thermos.

They looked at her.

By way of explanation, she said, "I didn't want to miss all the fun."

Owen stole the lid off her flask before she could react and he brandished it in Tiffany's direction.

"How about now?"

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**Author note mark 2:** If Ianto really did ever hand me a cup of his own coffee I think I would faint with happiness, how about you?


	3. Bondage and Bananas

**Author note:** to anyone who was curious about the title of chapter one, a 'roflcopter' is quite like a helicopter only much, much more amusing.

Please read and review! I'd like to know what you think about it but, as stated before, the mind powers are still not working properly.

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**Part Three: Bondage and Bananas**

In the main body of the Hub, Jack walked out of his office and paused, staring at the empty room. "Where the hell is my team?"

***

"You cannot possibly know that," Gwen protested.

"Ah, but I do; it was in the extras of series one. I told you, I'm an addict."

"Series one?" Owen interrupted. "Are you telling me we come on _box sets_?"

"Oh yeah." Tiffany was loving this. No one was drugging her, at least that she was aware of, and she had all the chocolate digestives she could hoard. She was also surrounded by fictional characters and trapped in an underground base that shouldn't exist, but apart from that, life was good.

Ianto's comm. buzzed, he raised his hand to tap it and said, "Ianto Jones, certifiable God of Coffee, how may I be of assistance?"

Behind him, Owen whispered, "Gwen, do you still think Irish coffee was a good idea?"

"No," said Gwen, pouting," 'cause we've ran out now."

Tiffany glanced at Ianto. She could see he was getting an earful.

"Oi-oi," Owen said. "This doesn't sound so good."

"Yes, sir. No, sir. Sir, could I just—"

"How long have we been down here, anyway?" Owen asked.

"No, I understand, sir—"

Tosh looked at her phone and Tiffany did _not_ like the way her eyes widened as she gazed at the tiny screen. "Too long."

"Right away, sir." Ianto tapped his ear. To the rest of them, he said, "Time to go."

When they'd gathered all the coffee-and-biscuits paraphernalia, the Torchwood team turned on Tiffany.

Owen raised his hand in a mock salute. "Nice chattin' to you, Tiff."

"Yeah it was..." Gwen paused. "Interesting."

Tosh waved and then followed after the other two. Ianto and Tiffany were alone again. He relocked her cell with an apologetic expression. "Sorry about all this, you seem a decent girl, but—"

"Appearances can be deceptive, yeah, I know."

"Hang tight, Tiffany."

The door swung shut and Tiffany was once again left to her thoughts. She was thinking she'd kill for her laptop, all of this would make an intriguing fan-fiction...

***

As reprimands went, this had to be one of the worst. Jack wasn't even shouting; he was _sulking_. (Ianto found it hard to tell if Jack was more annoyed about the fact that all of his trusted team had been casually cavorting with someone who could be a threat to their entire organisation, or the fact that no one had thought to invite him along to join in the fun.)

Either way, when Ianto finally brought Jack's coffee, he also took up a large pile of double chocolate chip cookies (fresh ones, Ianto was pulling out all the stops) balanced precariously on the previously requested tiny plate.

Jack took one look at Ianto trying to struggle through the door with his load and gave in. "Need a hand?"

Ianto raised his head from the tray for long enough to wink and say, "Oh, always, sir."

Jack chuckled. He snagged a cookie from the plate, stuffing it in his mouth before relieving Ianto of the laden tray. "What do you think of her?"

"Tiffany?"

"Yeah. There's something there," Jack said, brushing off the crumbs on his shirt. "I'm just not sure what."

Ianto leaned against Jack's desk and crossed his arms, thinking.

"You've talked to her more. She trusts you."

Ianto nodded slowly. "She isn't a threat Jack, not that I can make out. And she's taking everything quite well for someone who's had reality torn out from under her."

Jack also nodded, then stopped. "What?"

"She isn't from here," Ianto said simply.

"From Earth? You saying she's alien?"

"Does she look alien?" Jack seemed set to answer, so Ianto continued, "Owen tested her blood. She's human, _our_ human, through and through. Not from the past, not from the future. Drink your coffee, it'll go cold."

"So then she's from here," Jack said, reaching for his mug. "She's researched us."

"Yes, because I can just see her researching Torchwood only to call us all by the wrong names and keep tapping at the walls in case they really are plywood. Yep, that's likely."

"Don't get snarky, Yan."

Ianto inspected his nails. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

"Tiffany Summers has no records!" Jack protested. "She doesn't exist!"

"Obviously she does."

"Obviously she's lying."

"Then test her," Ianto said. "If she's telling the truth, you buy me dinner."

"Done and done. But if she's lying—"

Ianto sighed, pushing himself away from the desk and Jack's suddenly wandering hands. "Yes, yes. I'm sure I left those other handcuffs around here somewhere..."

***

"Well?" Gwen asked him when he came back downstairs. Owen had disappeared back into the medical bay and Tosh was hunting through the archives for... well, something.

"I think we're forgiven," Ianto replied. "Oh, and he says he wants that bottle of Jameson's either out of your desk and into the trash or upstairs on his desk. He'd prefer the latter."

"Fair enough," said Gwen, secretly planning on hiding it in the vault instead. "Did you mention the fact that our girl Tiffany seems to think we're all fictional?"

"Not yet, no. I was threatened with bondage, I had to back down."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. Ianto avoided meeting her eyes.

***

Tiffany had never watched her own heart rate. It looked more spiky than she would have thought. "Is that necessary?" she asked Owen, who was sticking more electrodes onto her. To Jack, she said, "I thought your lie detector was meant to be the best on the planet."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "How d'you know it's a lie detector?"

"You used it in the episode with—" Tiffany stopped herself. If that episode had already happened, then telling them about it would be _bad_. She could trip the ret-con; make them remember. If it hadn't happened, and the alien known as Adam had not yet invaded their minds, Tiffany wasn't going to be the one to tell them. She could still see Ianto sobbing as he admitted to murders he hadn't committed. "Err," she said. "Lucky guess?"

She could tell Jack didn't believe her, but then the green light on top of the lie detector flickered into red and she hastily added, "I can't tell you. It could be damaging if I did."

The light turned back green at her words and Tiffany grinned.

"Ready," Owen said, moving away from Tiffany to hover and watch her vitals on the screens behind. Gwen and Ianto stood on the balcony above, watching the scene in the interrogation room unfold. Tosh was at her desk, going through all the readouts on Rift activity to see if Tiffany could have fallen through from some parallel world.

Tiffany doubted that, though. She was still willing to attribute this entire thing to sleepless nights and cheese before bedtime. More gravy than of grave, she added wryly.

"What's your name?" Jack asked.

"Tiffany Summers."

Tiffany was ever so slightly hurt by the way Jack looked hopefully at the green light, willing it to change.

It did not.

From above, Gwen said, "Owen, you owe me a fiver."

Jack tried again. "When and where were you born?"

"London. London Bridge Hospital in nineteen eighty-nine. My birthday is August twelfth. Me and my mum and dad lived— Look. What I said before was true. What I told Gwen was true. I am telling _the truth_."

The light stayed green.

"Still don't believe me, Jack?"

Jack made a 'harrumph' noise. "How do you know about Torchwood?"

"Where I live, which quite obviously isn't here, Torchwood is a television series."

This time the entire team stared at the lie detector. It didn't change.

"Well, blow me," said Owen.

"No thanks," Ianto replied.

Jack cleared his throat. "Can we please keep on track here? For just a few minutes, would it kill you?"

"It wouldn't kill _you_," Tiffany said meaningfully. To her delight, the light stayed green.

"Know about that too, huh?"

"I don't know everything about the base, Jack," Tiffany said with patience. "I don't know all the ins and outs, the protocol, the fine print. I just know plot."

"Plot?" Jack repeated, his tone one of doubt. "Like what?"

Tiffany decided to try a different tack. Children of Earth hadn't happened here, not yet, but there was still the story behind it. "What happened in nineteen sixty-five, Jack?"

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Nineteen sixty-five. Sound of Music got released. Not a bad year, I guess."

"Didn't you ever wonder what you were doing?"

He stared at her.

***

Up above, Gwen turned to Ianto and asked, "What's she talking about?"

"I have no idea."

***

"Didn't you wonder what those things wanted with them when you handed them over?"

"You can't know about this," he protested. "You weren't even born."

"No one ever saw them again, did they, Jack? You always wondered, and you were left wondering."

The light kept its green corona and Jack said, "Stop it."

"I'm sorry. I can't; this is stuff I know."

"The year after? Do you know what happened to me then?"

"No idea. Not a sausage." On some bizarre whim, Tiffany added, "Not even a banana! Ha!"

"What did you say?"

"Villengard, wasn't it? Sonic blaster factory, all plantations now."

"You can't know this."

"Nanogenes, Glen Miller, gas mask zombies. Can't I?" All in all, Tiffany felt quite wonderfully smug. Then Jack's fist slammed down hard on the table and she jumped, good feelings fleeing.

"How?" Jack demanded, towering over her. "Tell me how!"

Owen's voice drifted across the room. "Easy, Jack." On screen, Tiffany's heart raced in jagged lines and blips. Seeing Jack's anger in person was...

She drew in a shuddering breath and Jack seemed to finally notice how hard she was gripping at the arms of her chair; how wide and fearful her eyes were.

"You can't know," he whispered. "You cannot know about _him_."

Tiffany managed to force herself to breathe and say, "But I do."

Jack regarded her. He became aware of the others listening and decided that a break was needed. He could find out just how much Tiffany Summers knew about him later and away from the team's prying ears. This was personal.

***

Hours passed and when everyone had been sent home – including one protesting Ianto, demanding free food as he was ejected from the tourist office – Jack descended to the cells. There he sat and talked to Tiffany. Just talked.

After a time, Jack decided Ianto was right. Tiffany Summers wasn't a threat. Here was someone who _understood_, albeit in a completely bizarre manner. She thought he was fictional; he knew he was not. He thought she was mad and she knew _she_ was not, or at least she was pretty certain.

Somehow it worked.

The topic of conversation moved onto the Doctor and what he was up to, as Tiffany would of course know. It was hard trying to work out where in time the Doctor would be; she wasn't even sure where she was on Torchwood's own timeline. Jack didn't know anyone called Donna, but he clammed up over the name Martha and Tiffany got all she needed to know from that.

"How about Adipose? Have you heard of them?" she'd asked.

"'Them'?" Jack had replied. "Adipose is body fat. It's not a 'them'."

So the Doctor was alone, Tiffany thought. It was sadder to think that the Doctor could really being flying out there companionless instead of flying alone on-screen. It made everything seem more real to her.

Jack continued to probe and ask questions, but over one item of information he would not budge:

"We're seriously the spin-off?"

* * *

**Secondary author note:** If you don't get the significance of bananas, I shall despair at you. :D


	4. Alleyways Are Never Good

**Author note:** Yesterday was Tiffany's birthday! I can't believe I wrote it and then forgot about it... I should have gotten her a fictional cake or something... Err. Umm. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews people! I'll be trying to get the next chapter written as soon as possible but as I appear to have just come down with influenza, I'm not making any promises.

* * *

**Part Four: Alleyways Are Never Good**

Tiffany and Tosh sat before Tosh's computer screen. Tiffany's eyes were filled with tears. "None of them? Not— Not even Adrian?" Suddenly she felt empty inside. She'd never liked the brat all that much, but now he was gone.

Her little brother, gone.

Toshiko shook her head.

"So..." said Tiffany. "So, I don't exist? Just like that? Everyone I have ever loved is gone?"

Gwen opened her mouth to speak but Owen cut her off. "The way I see it, no."

Gwen looked down at where he sat spinning himself around on an office chair. "What?"

"Think about it, she's come from _somewhere_, some odd parallel world or something, and in that world all her family are still going to be there," Owen said, shrugging. "_She's_ the one that's gone."

Tiffany burst into fresh tears and Gwen clobbered Owen over the head with a rolled up inventory form. "Why would you say that, eh? Can't you see what it's doing to—"

"I think Owen has a point." Jack's voice drifted across the room and Gwen stopped her assault.

"Really?" Her tone was one of disbelief. Owen scowled in her direction.

"Parallel worlds do happen and we don't know everything the Rift is capable of," Jack said. "Have we scanned her for Rift energy?"

Owen raised his hand to his head. "I knew there was something I forgot!"

"You 'forgot'?"

"Hey," Owen said, "Jack, you had me run so many tests on her—"

Tiffany's head came up. "What?"

"—I was bound to forget _something_."

"Tests?" Tiffany repeated, her voice squeaky. "What kind of tests?"

Tosh turned away from the screen, scooting her chair along the floor to come beside Tiffany. "Just tests. We had to be sure you weren't alien."

"Oh. Er, did I pass? 'Cause mum's always saying I spend so much time watching Doctor Who that I—"

"'Doctor Who'?" Gwen asked. "What's that then?"

Tiffany looked at Jack; he shook his head.

"Nothing, just some obscure little sci-fi show," Tiffany said, grateful the lie detector was nowhere near.

"Owen, can you scan her now?" Jack asked. Apparently the Doctor was going to be just between the two of them.

Torchwood's own doctor got up out of his seat and walked to the medical bay, coming back with a strange looking device that Tiffany recognised. A few minutes later she was looking at its readout in shock.

"The Rift doesn't even exist, how can I be covered in it?!"

***

Jack took Tiffany back down to the cells, catching her shudder as she passed the temporarily imprisoned Weevils. "Do you want your drawings?" he asked.

"Why? Going to take them away in case I try to commit suicide by paper cut?" Tiffany replied dryly.

"No," Jack said. "Just wanted to know if you'd like to take them with you."

She stopped walking and stared at him. "I'm not going back in?"

"Not unless you want to."

Tiffany shook her head to fast that Jack grinned. "God, no."

"It's settled then."

After she'd been inside to rip up the dreadful sketches, Jack closed the door and the pair walked away from the cell block.

"What about my dogs?" she asked. "Where are they? Are they alright?"

"They're fine," Jack assured her as they walked back into the main room of the Hub. "They've just been—"

"I've found Janice Scott!" Toshiko shouted, her voice echoing in the large room.

Tiffany ran toward her. "Where?"

"I couldn't find a trace of her where you said, but I did found a house owned by a Rita Scott, her mother."

Tiffany clapped a hand to her forehead. "I forgot about that!"

Jack shook his head. "Always the case."

"Dafydd's from Newport originally," Tiffany explained. "He and his dad moved to London when he was five, we've known each other for years, best mates really. He came to Cardiff university and met Janice and moved in with her at the end of the first year. I visit as often as I can. I'm the one that pushed him into going to Cardiff, he thought he wasn't good enough."

"Tosh," Jack said. "Check up a Dafydd Williams in London."

"Already done." Tosh tilted the screen for them to see. The picture of Dafydd made Tiffany feel intolerably lonely. "Lives with his dad not far from where you and your mother—"

"But this Dafydd never met me. He never came to Cardiff and he never met Janice. They never fell in love."

"No," Toshiko said. "Well, er, no, he didn't. I'm sorry."

"You alright?" Jack asked Tiffany. She brushed away a tear, staring at it as if it shouldn't exist.

"Fine. I'm fine."

Tosh and Jack shared a glance over Tiffany's head, not sure of what to say. Thankfully Gwen chose that exact moment to pop around the corner and ask, "Anyone fancy a pizza?"

"God, yes," Tiffany choked out.

***

Jack shut the door to the tourist office behind them. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. For starters—" Tiffany paused, not sure if she should still be calling them Jack and Ianto... "For starters the dogs need walking. Second, I've been dying for some fresh air, and third, it's worth a shot, right?"

Tiffany offered Jack the leash to the dog named after him. Jack took it, saying, "Why can't I walk Ianto?"

"Because the images that have just flooded my mind are far too much for me to handle, thank you very much."

Jack chuckled into the cool night air. The laughter stopped as he was unexpectedly dragged forward by the leash.

"And also because Jack is extremely troublesome," Tiffany explained. "Much like his namesake."

Half an hour of walking later, they arrived outside Rita Scott's house. Jack put his hand on the gate as Tiffany pushed at it, blocking her way. "Still sure?"

She tilted her face up to see him more clearly. "Nothing to lose by it. I might as well try."

"Alright," he said, letting her past.

Tiffany walked across the cracked paving and toward the door. She could see the ghostly, flickering light that indicated someone was watching TV. She knocked on the door. Seconds went by, then Janice Scott opened the door and stared at her.

"Yeah, can I help you?"

"Janice, I just—" Tiffany started.

"Do I know you?"

Tiffany blinked, she really shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. "Apparently not, sorry to intrude."

Janice looked past Tiffany to where Jack had been standing, now out of sight; giving Tiffany a moment of privacy. "Can I help you at all, then?"

"No, no," Tiffany said. "Sorry, my mistake."

The door closed in her face. Tears of humiliation coursed down her cheeks before she could stop them. All alone, she was all alone in a fictional world.

Jack's hand appeared on her shoulder and she turned to him. "Come on," he said kindly. "Time to go."

When the pair were halfway back toward the Hub, Jack's comm. bleeped.

"Ianto? Yeah, I'm just with— Are you serious? Wow, they have rubbish timing. Yeah, I'm right on it." Jack handed the black dog's leash to Tiffany. "Got to go, Weevil sighted not far from here. Need to get to it before anyone else."

Tiffany nodded. "Go, I'll find my own way back."

"Not going to run away?"

The girl laughed darkly. "Nowhere to run to, remember?"

"Here." Jack passed her a mobile phone. "I'm on speed dial one, call me if you need to, 'kay?"

"Sure, thanks."

Jack flashed her a grin, and then he was running.

***

Shit, shit, shit. Tiffany knew she was lost. She should have asked for directions or something, and now here she was, trying to persuade Jack-the-Labrador to come out of a dumpster. Typical.

"You are on your last warning, Mister!" she shouted in after him. "I'll get another dog; I mean it!"

A growling sound caught her attention. Tiffany glanced down to where Ianto stood with her hackles raised, eyes fixed on the opening to the alley. Tiffany looked up.

Shit.

The Weevil growled back. It began to advance.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I want you to be a man in a mask," she told it. "No bloody clue." With shaking fingers she took out Jack's mobile and brought it to her ear. "Jack? Please pick up, oh God, please pick up!" All Tiffany could hear was static. When she looked at the screen, it was flickering like water had been thrown on it. "Bastard technology! Jack! Jack fucking Harkness! You'd better come out of the bloody blue in time to save me or I swear I'll tell you spoilers! I swear it!"

The Weevil was three metres away. She brought the phone back up. "Jack," she whispered. "Please, anyone. Please. Please pick up."

Two metres away. In the dustbin, the Labrador whined.

The Weevil was one metre away when Tiffany closed her eyes and screamed.

Seconds past, To Tiffany's shock, there was a complete absence of teeth biting into her shoulder, claws raking into her skin, death and darkness clouding her vision.

There was, however, the body of a Weevil at her feet, blood seeping from a hole in its head.

Tiffany felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against her temple and she froze where she stood, not even daring to shiver. Her eyes flicked down and saw dark jeans tucked into mid-calf brown boots... pistol holsters... a gold brocaded scabbard...

Well, shit.

"Hmm. You're new."

She recognised that voice.

"Oh Gods," Tiffany moaned. "Not you, anyone but you."


	5. Here We Go Again

**Author note: ** This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Galadriel1010 who loves me whatever I write and who actually spent half of today chasing after Gareth David-Lloyd. Lucky devil. Galadriel1010 was also the person to introduce me to Cap'n John Hart in gun!porn. (If you don't know, I ain't explaining.)

* * *

**Part Five: Here We Go Again**

Tiffany found herself spun around. She looked up into the face of Captain John Hart (note the sarcasm, her mind added) and squeaked.

"I don't know you, do I?"

Feeling numb, Tiffany shook her head.

"Hmm." He looked her up and down. "Shame, that."

Tiffany didn't care if the man was fictional, no one talked about her like that. Her hand flew toward Hart's cheek before she could stop herself and he caught it in a vice grip. "Not the face, sweetheart. Anywhere but the face, I beg of you."

Smiling sweetly, Tiffany moved to knee him in the crotch. Ianto whined in the corner of the alley as she was shoved to the floor, Hart's boot pressing on her chest. "Spirited little thing, aintcha?"

"I try my best," Tiffany replied, struggling to breath.

"Now here's what's going to happen, you listening?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Hart let out a raucous laugh. "Good! Good, good. So," he said, "you are going to take me to Torchwood and let me into that little base of yours without tripping any of the security."

"But I—"

The boot pressed down with more force. Tiffany thought her ribcage might collapse. "Shh. Hush hush. Don't interrupt the good Captain mid-flow, will you? Right. You get me in and then we can have a wonderful chat with the rest of the Torchwood Team," Hart said, over enunciating the words 'Torchwood Team' with a spirited grin. "How does that sound?"

Tiffany stared at him. The man was mad.

"You can answer that, by the way."

"I think you're mad," she said slowly.

"Good! I'd hate for you to think I was sane," Hart said, pulling Tiffany to her feet and pressing the gun into the side of her hip. "It would mean I was giving off the wrong impression, and we just can't have _that_."

It was going to be a long night.

The phone in Tiffany's pocket, _Jack's_ phone, rang. She stared at the bulging material, not sure of what to do.

"You should answer that, it's rude to keep people waiting," Hart said, as casually as if he wasn't still pointing a loaded weapon into her side. Tiffany took the mobile out and stared at the display. Hart looked at it over her shoulder.

"Oh, Jackie-boy, you do so like to keep tabs." More direct now, Hart commanded, "Answer it. Say exactly what I tell you to." He stuck the gun further into her back for emphasis and Tiffany hissed.

With shaking fingers, she hit the 'answer' button.

"_Tiffany? Hey, you alright?"_

"I'm fine," Hart whispered.

"Er, yeah, Jack, no, yeah, I'm fine," Tiffany said, breaking out into a fresh sweat.

"_You're not back yet, did you get lost?"_

Hart stared at her. Tiffany stared back. "Say yes," he said.

"Yes," Tiffany repeated. "I'm just off...

Hart looked around. "Hope Street."

"I'm off Hope Street, can you tell me the way from there?"

"_Sure thing, just go down..."_

Tiffany listened to Jack's instructions, surprised that her guilt wasn't oozing out of her eyes 'cause that's what she sure felt like.

"Well, say thank you." Hart prodded her with the gun. "And then hang up. Don't want to waste Torchwood's precious credit."

"Thanks," Tiffany said into the tiny microphone. "I'll be back in a moment." She glared at Hart as he snatched the phone from her hand and disconnected the call.

"You don't know your own way back? You really are new. Newer than I thought," he mused. "When did you start?"

"Err..." Tiffany didn't quite know how to answer. "Yesterday?" It wasn't exactly the truth, but then again it wasn't exactly a lie either, she supposed.

"I've caught a newbie?" Hart seemed delighted at the prospect. Tiffany turned the level of her glare up from 'seethe' to 'kill'.

"This day just keeps getting better and better. Now come on, Newbie," he said, "we have a date to keep."

***

Tiffany knocked on the door to the Tourist Office. Ianto opened it and beamed at her, his gaze slid from her strained face to the gun pressed into it, and finally to John Hart himself. The grin faded.

"Eye-candy!" Hart exclaimed. "Long time no see!"

"Not long enough," Tiffany heard Ianto mutter.

"You should have kept in touch, I've missed our moments together."

"Bite me, Hart."

"Oh, if only there were the time..."

Tiffany made a gagging sound.

"But I'm forgetting our audience," Hart said, digging the barrel further into Tiffany's skin for emphasis. She gasped and Ianto's fists tightened. "Mr Jones," Hart continued, "could you do us favour and lead the way down? I'd get the door, but my hands are a bit full."

Without a word, Ianto went around the desk and bent to hit the button to open the door, ignoring Hart's wolf whistle. "Damn, Eye-candy, if I were running this operation, I'd put that switch a bit lower."

Tiffany shot Ianto an apologetic look. She really was sorry, so very sorry for all of this – sorry for everything.

***

Jack looked up from his paperwork (or lack thereof) and frowned when Ianto came out of the circular door walking backward with measured steps.

"Ianto?"

"Trouble," was all the Welshman said before a familiar figure stepped into the Hub proper. Tosh, much closer to the door than Jack, scrabbled for her gun.

Jack's face fell as he gazed across at his former, and smirking, partner. "Not again," he murmured.

"Jackie!"

Exasperated, Jack said, "What do you want, John?"

Hart looked shocked. "No pleasantries? No warm welcome?" he protested. "Time was I got mints on the pillow. This is cold, Jack, _cold_. I'm almost hurt."

"Good."

"Ouch," Hart hissed, shaking his free hand. "Freezing, see? I could catch frostbite at this rate."

"Let her go," Jack said, "then we can talk."

"Frostbite would be nasty, wouldn't it?" Hart said to Tiffany. "Think of all the extremities you could—"

Gwen and Owen walked in from where they'd been comparing Rift activity spikes after Tiffany's arrival and froze in unison. Gwen's hand flew toward her gun and Owen mirrored her a split second behind. The pages of paper they had been carrying fluttered to the ground in a riotous mess.

"Tut tut, careless," Hart remarked, looking at the pair. "Now here is how it's going to go, you lot are all going to lower your weapons or I shoot this girl a new and wonderful hole in her head." Tiffany flinched as the butt of the gun wove a circle in her hair. "Not that I want to; it would be such a waste."

"Pig."

Yet again, Tiffany cursed herself for not keeping better control of her mouth because then Hart said, "Temper" and Tiffany felt an arm – her own arm – wrenched up behind her back.

She screamed.

"You'd better let her go," Owen warned.

Cool lips spoke from near her ear and Tiffany shuddered. "Why would I do that? The new girl's obviously valuable to you, look at the way you're scampering after her! Directions and little doggies indeed." Lecherous as the grave and twice as disgusting, John Hart forced Tiffany back a step so his teeth brushed her ear lobe. "Have Torchwood got themselves a little pet? A little mascot? I love a good mascot, mind you I quite like bad mascots too. Which one would you be to me, darling?"

Jack had his gun raised now. Tiffany didn't know whether to feel comforted by this or not. "What's this about, John?"

"What, I can't just drop in and see the gang?"

"You can look but don't you dare touch," Gwen shouted. "Get your hands off her!"

"Ah, Bucktooth, I wondered when you'd chip in. Anyone else going to attempt to appeal to my nonexistent sense of decency and fairness?" John's grip tightened around her wrist and Tiffany gasped, biting her lip and closing her eyes at the ripping pain. "No? Nothing? No one? Not even Eye-candy? Oh dear. How you all are slipping."

Tiffany wracked her brain, trying to remember anything she could about Captain John Hart. Apart from the 'no kissing' rule, all that came to mind was sex involving guns... It was at this point that Tiffany decided she'd read far too many fan-fictions than could be healthy.

"John, last warning, what do you want?"

"I've heard that before... " Hart's voice turned dreamy. "Your bedside manner can't have improved much, Jack."

Ianto snorted, then looked hastily away so as to avoid Jack's sudden glare.

"Trouble in paradise?" Hart lightly asked.

Jack looked back at him, making a mental note to talk to Ianto later. "Seriously John, what's this about?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was bored and wanted to drop in for a chat?"

"No," Gwen and Jack said in unison.

"Say it a bit louder? I think I heard an echo then; you could get great acoustics in this place." Hart appeared to snap back into the present to continue, "Okay, if I let the girl go, would you believe me then?"

"Maybe," Jack said, conflicting with Gwen's instant, "No."

Hart chuckled and let go of Tiffany's arm. She clutched at it, trying to rub the feeling back.

"How about now? Am I trusted?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "The gun, John?"

Hart looked at his pistol still pressing into Tiffany's skull and his expression became one of 'what, this little thing?'. "Okay, fine," he said. "Sheesh, you people have no sense of fun." He lowered the weapon and Tiffany nearly collapsed with the sudden freedom of it all.

"If you only wanted to talk, why go to all this trouble?" Tosh chipped in.

Hart turned to face her. "Sweetie, do I look like the sort to do subtle? It's over the top and in your face or nothing at all."

"I remember the last time you said that," Jack murmured.

"And you know you loved it," Hart returned.

Jack shrugged, grinning. "Eh."

Tiffany felt now was a good time to edge away. Hart's hand clapped onto her shoulder before she could move too far, though. "What was your name again?"

"You didn't ask me the first time, how can I tell you again?"

The hand slid off. Hart smirked.

"Tiffany Summers," she said, giving in.

"Well, Jack," Hart said, turning to face him. "You really aren't doing so well with your newbies; little Miss Summers here was cornered by a Weevil when I caught up with her!" Hart shook his head as if disappointed. "Bad show, Jack. Bad show."

"Tiffany isn't exactly one of ours, you know."

Tiffany paused, making sure that this time she was well out of John Hart's reach. Hart looked from her to Jack and back again. "Then who is she?"

"That's a bit hard to explain," said Owen, gesturing for Tiffany to move to where he and Gwen stood.

Hart's gaze travelled from face to face all around the room until he said, "Try me."

* * *

**Author note again:** God, this chapter was so much fun to write. I was laughing all the way through. Please review, it makes me update faster! :D


	6. Full of Something

**Author note:** Uber-jealousy! Galadriel1010 actually met Gareth David-Lloyd! Meanwhile I am scaring myself with just how easy Captain Hart is personify. I'm also getting over my swiney flu and utterly dreading results day on Thursday, woop-de-doop!

...when did my author note become my blog? Read on, minions! Read on!

* * *

**Part Six: Full of Something  
**

Jack Harkness sat behind his desk, glaring at his former partner. John Hart just smiled back. "What's the deal with her, then? You invite me up here to explain and then _pftoom_ nothing. You always were good at long silences, Jackie. Drove me mad."

Jack continued to glare.

"If I said I was sorry, how about that?"

"Sorry for what, exactly?" Jack said. "There are a great deal of things you could be apologising about."

Hart whistled. "Someone's holding a grudge, freeyow." He slid a bit lower into his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "You know you only had to mention it, we could have talked this over a long time ago."

The other man blinked, breathing out a sigh that seemed weighted by immeasurable years.

"Come on, Jack, stop it," Hart whined. "Please? Pretty please? Do I have to beg? You always liked me begging, as I recall."

Jack ran a hand through his hair, exasperated.

"Fine. Fine. If you're going to be like that. Just shut me out; it's nothing new!"

Slowly, Jack said, "John..."

"Oh, he remembers my name! What a bonus!"

***

Tiffany, Tosh and Owen watched – well, attempted to watch; the blinds surrounding Jack's office were half drawn – the scene unfold. Tiffany was wide eyed, Tosh was pacing and Owen was—

Toshiko peered at him. "Owen, what are you doing?"

"Looking for bug spray," Owen replied, riffling through desk drawers. "Can't seem to find any that'd work on overcompensating 51st century prats, though."

"I thought John was the problem here, not Jack," Tiffany said, grinning. Owen chuckled.

***

"And another thing! You always thought—"

"John, seriously, stop."

Hart leaned back from the desk where he had been attempting to tower over Jack. "Are you going to say something to me beyond 'John', 'seriously' and 'stop'?"

"Yes," Jack said.

"Really?"

"No."

"Jaaaaaaaaaack," Hart griped.

"Well you still haven't told me what you're even _doing_ here; how am I supposed to react?"

Hart jumped up onto the desk, sitting and then reclining backward, leaning on one elbow to stare across at Jack. "I can't just drop in like old times?" He reached out a hand, brushed his fingers over Jack's collar. "All those... good... old times."

Jack's eyes became weary and he gently pushed Hart's hand away. "Perhaps. But I still think you have an ulterior motive. Practically everything you ever did had an ulterior motive."

Hart opened his mouth to protest; Jack raised an eyebrow and Hart shrugged. "Fair point. Okay, fine, I'll come clean."

At the very least, Jack seemed doubtful.

"Hey, don't look at me like that!" the other man protested.

"Like what?"

"Like that! Like I've been caught with my hands, legs and other appendages in multiple cookie jars."

"That was a fun night," Jack said, tilting his head and reminiscing.

Hart laughed. "It certainly was." He sat back up and lifted his wrist, showing the strap. "Real reason for coming here?"

Jack nodded.

"I got curious. There were these really weird readings coming from right around here." Hart fiddled with a few buttons, making a flickering graph appear. "I just figured I'd drop in and take a look."

Jack was sceptical. "At gunpoint?"

"She's alright, isn't she? No lasting damage done. Give her a cup of... whatever it is you drink around here and she'll be right as rain."

Something occurred to Jack. "Let me have a closer look at those readings."

"Sure thing, just make sure you— Ow!" Hart yelped as Jack grabbed his wrist, yanking it close so he could see. "Do I have to say bedside manners again— Ow! Fine, fine, yeah, ouch, shut up, John, take a hint, John."

"Hmm," said Jack. "This explains a lot."

"It does? Then what caused it?"

Jack looked up from the strap, stood and walked to the wall length windows. He pointed down into the Hub proper. "She did."

***

"I don't like the look of that," Tiffany said, resisting the urge to flinch back from Jack's outstretched hand. Hart came to join him at the glass and they both peered at her. She turned away, trying not to feel self-conscious and failing miserably.

"Tiffany?" Jack called, sticking his head out of the office door. "Come up here a sec?"

"If he calls you Eye-candy, you have my permission to slap him, by the way," Ianto said as she walked away from the rest of the team and began the short climb to Jack's office. Tiffany walked up the steps, trying not to think about how over-used the whole 'Eye-candy' thing was in fan-fiction...

She reached the top and pushed the door open, hearing Jack say, "Can we try for a polite introduction this time?"

Hart stuck his hands in his pockets and pulled a face. "If you insist."

"I do."

Sighing, Hart said, "John Hart, pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Tiffany replied, "I think."

Jack pointed to the small sofa, indicating Tiffany should sit. Hart sat down next to her, a little too close for comfort. Tiffany tried her best not to edge away, Hart gave her his most predatorial grin and she rolled her eyes at him. "Don't you ever get bored of doing that?"

"Now that you mention it, no, no I don't."

"John, behave," Jack said. "Please?"

"Alright," Hart said, shifting away so that he was no longer making bodily contact with Tiffany, "but only 'cause you asked so nicely." Hart turned to face her at the end of the sofa. "So, Tiffany, Jack tells me you've got some freaky weird Rift thing going on?"

"Did he put it like that?"

Jack, safe behind his desk, shrugged.

"Did you mention the..." Tiffany paused, trying to think how to phrase it and settling lamely for: "The, er, _other_ thing?"

"Other thing?" Hart looked from one face to the other. "What 'other' thing?"

"The fact that I think you're all fictional characters," she said bluntly.

Hart's expression did not change, in that it was still one of bemused surprise.

"No," Jack said. "I hadn't quite gotten that far..."

"Hmm."

"Fictional?" Hart repeated.

"Yes. A television series in fact, called Torchwood."

Hart put one hand on his hip and brought his other arm up, leaning on the top of the couch. Staring at Tiffany, he said, "Oh Jackie, you do know how to pick 'em..."

"I'm serious. Where I live, Torchwood is a television series and you lot are all actors."

Something occurred to Hart. "So this show is about Torchwood and what goes on here?"

Surprised that he seemed to be so accepting, Tiffany said, "Well, yes."

Hart's lips twisted. "You're obviously mad," he said. Tiffany scowled. "But I'm curious: what about me, where do I fit in?"

Tiffany drew a blank. "Err..."

"I do fit in, right?"

Tiffany started to chew her lip, looking at the ceiling. "You're not in the first series..."

Jack chuckled.

Hart frowned. "But he is?"

"Well, he's sort of in charge, you know, so he's in _every _episode..."

"Is there a second series?" Hart asked.

"Yes."

"And how many am I in of that?"

Tiffany only just stopped herself saying 'three', because she couldn't tell him that. "One," she said, "so far."

"One," Hart repeated.

"One," Tiffany confirmed.

Jack, being far too amused by the proceedings, continued to chuckle in a throaty way. "The lady said one, accept it John. Ooh, hey, that rhymed."

"I still say you're mad, but how can I only be in one? I'm brilliant! I should have my _own_ show!"

The idea had definite approval in Tiffany's head but she tried not to let it show on her face; Hart was bigheaded enough as it was. "Perhaps. Maybe that'll happen now that—" Again, and just in time, Tiffany stopped herself.

"Now that...?" Hart probed.

Tiffany smiled a winning smile and continued, "Now that you mention it."

From the look on Jack's face, he could tell there was something she was hiding. Tiffany avoided his stare.

"Let me get this straight," Hart said. "You are covered in Rift energy, so you've obviously come from somewhere, and in that dimension, or whatever, we are all fictional characters?"

"Pretty much," said Tiffany. "Although I'm still trying to pass all this off as a bad dream." Just like Children of Earth, Tiffany's mind finished.

"A bad dream? With me in it? Impossible."

"You are so full of yourself, John," the other man commented.

"It's better than being full of you," Hart returned, "and I should know."


	7. Starlight Lies

**Author note:** So it's been... four months? Or so? I've finally finished this chapter! More should be on the way as soon as is conceivably and physically possible, but for now I wish everyone a very merry Christmas.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Part Seven: Starlight Lies**

"Serious question time now," Hart said. Tiffany steeled herself. "Does Jack have more fan-girls than me?"

Tiffany stared at him for a long moment and then did what she had never physically done before in her life. She raised her hands to her cheeks and she face-palmed.

"Is that a good sign?"

"I don't think so, John."

"Shoot."

***

Ianto hunted for coffee mugs. He'd already searched everyone's desks twice; he needed an excuse not to go back down the archives, which was where he technically should be. After about ten minutes of nobody telling him to get back to work, he gave up the pretence and pulled up a chair next to Toshiko. "He owes me dinner," Ianto told her conversationally. "Don't let me forget."

"I could send an instant message to his computer and make it take over the entire screen, if you like," Tosh replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "I can make it so it won't close down until he reads it."

Ianto appeared to consider this.

"Can you make it flash?"

***

"Come here. I want to scan you." Hart gestured for her to stand.

Tiffany stared at him, crossed her arms and said, "Impatient much?"

"He is a bit," Jack said, smirking from behind the desk, "yeah."

Hart was affronted. "I'm asking first, aren't I? That's manners that is. Proves I like you."

"And if you didn't like me?" Tiffany asked. "You'd have just gone ahead and done it?"

"You look like someone who likes it rough." Hart waggled his eyebrows once and said, "You tell me."

"I'm trying very hard not to roll my eyes at you," Tiffany replied. "I can't quite believe you just said that."

"Oh, he did," Jack said. "And, as a line, it's never worked for him either.

Tiffany smirked. "I'll bet."

"It worked on _you_," Hart said, putting his hands on his knees and meeting Jack's eyes with a challenging stare.

Incredulous and ever so slightly amused, Tiffany turned on Jack. "It did?"

Jack Harkness felt the need to defend himself. "The amount of alcohol involved on that particular occasion could have rotted girders." He gestured at Hart and said, "Hardly conclusive evidence."

"Did you complain?" Hart's expression made it clear Jack hadn't.

"Not as such, no."

"Well then."

Tiffany coughed into her fist. "Can we get back on track, guys?"

"Right then," said Hart, clapping his hands together and rubbing them a few times before grinning at Tiffany. "Scanner."

***

"What are they doing to her?" Gwen asked, her eyes widening as she watched the trio in Jack's office.

Owen didn't look up from his paperwork. "Not entirely sure I want to know, thanks."

"Should I go up and see?" Gwen didn't leave him enough time to answer. "I'm going to go see."

"You, Gwen Cooper, are a nosy git," Owen remarked, ticking something on the sheet he held.

"And you, Owen Harper, are just a git. Funny old world, ain't it?"

***

"Bored now."

"Nearly finished," Hart muttered.

"Hurry it up, John."

"I said I'm nearly finished!"

Tiffany affect a mock yawn. Hart prodded her a little more than necessary in the side with his finger. Continued to press buttons almost at random on his wrist strap.

"I'm still bored," said Tiffany.

"And I'm still nearly finished."

Jack huffed from behind his desk. Hart ignored him. "I'm getting some brilliant flashbacks here," said Jack.

That made Hart turn. "Oho," he said. "You did not."

Jack grinned. "I did."

"Did what?" said Tiffany. Hart glared, turning to ignore Jack's ever gleeful expression. Not wanting Jack to see him riled, Tiffany guessed. "Have I missed something?"

Jack jutted out his chin, looked at Hart with reflective smugness in his eyes. "There was this one night, you see—"

"You're actually going there?" Hart asked, incredulous.

The glitter in Jack's eyes faded. "I never left."

Hart blinked. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Neither does your face, but here we are."

Tiffany stared from one to the other. "Umm," she said.

Jack and Hart continued to glare at each other. Tiffany even tried clicking her fingers in the air between them. Something caught her eye. "Should that screen be flashing, Jack?"

All of a sudden Jack was back into the captain and commander persona Tiffany had grown to love him for. He broke the staring contest, flicking his gaze to where Tiffany indicated. Scanning the screen with intense concentration that broke almost instantly. A snort of laughter and a mumble of 'Ianto', then Jack turned back to Hart and Tiffany. He smiled. "Where were we?"

"You were digging up the past that you swore," said Hart. "That you _swore_ would remain the past." Jack shrugged. Hart continued. "Shall we bring up everything else, Jack? Shall we? Ooh, I love a good spilling session!"

"Drop it, John."

"You!"

Tiffany stood up abruptly.

"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Jack.

"If you don't mind," said Tiffany, "I think I need to get out of here before I grow a pair of sympathetic balls from all the testosterone drifting around." She strode to the door, evading Hart's grasp of a hand to stop her.

"I haven't finished scanning," he protested.

"Are you likely to learn anymore than the fact that I really shouldn't be here?"

"Well," said Hart. "Not as such, no."

Tiffany smiled sadly. "There you have it."

"Tiffany," said Jack. "Come on. Stay. I promise we'll behave."

Both of Hart's eyebrows rose.

"In as much as is possible," Jack continued. Hart considered this, nodding his assent.

"No thanks," said Tiffany. "I just need a moment, okay?"

She left. In the silence that followed, Hart said, "Still got that way with the women, eh?"

Jack batted his lashes. "You tell me."

Hart chuckled.

* * *

Tiffany walked past the door to the medical lab, past Tosh and Owen's computer desks. Quick across the grilled walkways. Around the water tower. Out of sight. She needed out of sight. She needed to _think_.

A soft voice said, "You alright?"

"Where's the conference room these days?" she asked Gwen.

Caution overriding concern, Gwen said, "Why?"

"I want some time to think?" Tiffany gestured to the room, to the figures of Jack and Captain Hart inside Jack's office. Right on cue, Myfanwy wheeled overhead, crying out forlornly. "Is a little space away from the madness too much to ask?"

"Not at all," said Gwen. She offered her arm. Tiffany took it gratefully. "I'd offer the pub, but how old are you again?"

"I'm nineteen!" Tiffany said hotly. Gwen laughed. "And I'd accept your offer, but right now I'm not sure I want to make another trip outside. I could bring back some other annoyance from Jack's past or something." And wouldn't that just be the cherry on the cake? Why did Tiffany get the feeling that if she continued to blunder so, she'd end up bringing about an early and not-so-fictional-as-she'd-like apocalypse?

"No problem." Gwen lead her through one of the side doors, heading down into the lower floors. "I know just the place."

* * *

"Your anomaly just walked off with Little Miss Bleeding Heart," Hart observed, glancing out the office window. He turned back to Jack. "You'll want to watch out for that. She'll teach young Tiffany all about pointless acts of self sacrifice and melodrama. Oh wait! You can do a plum job of that on your own!"

"John."

"Jack?"

"I want you to leave now."

Hart frowned, surprised, though really he ought not have been. Pure Jack, this was. Cling one moment, push the next. He'd clung through all their trapped years together and then not long after Jack had just shoved away. Split the two of them. Broken them. Now it seemed Jack had found someone else to cling to. This little team of his. They'd be cute if not for their annoyance, an asset if not for their pig headed determination to always do the Right Thing.

Not Hart's scene, truth be told. He sighed. "I thought manners was supposed to be something humans were—"

"Please, then."

"Please?"

"Please."

Hart sighed again. "Fine."

Jack scoffed. "That can't be it," he said, shaking his head. "You won't just leave."

"You're right," said Hart. "That's much more of a _you_ thing to do."

He pushed himself up from the sofa and stormed out into the Hub proper. Maybe if he was lucky he could find something small and fluffy to kill, get his mind straight. No wonder Tiffany had stormed out. How had Hart ever survived even one day with that man?

"John," said Jack, voice soft. Hart turned to find him leaning in the open doorway, one ankle tucked behind the other, hands in pockets. Jack smiled at Hart's stony expression. "I'll see you around?" He sounded almost hopeful, damn him!

"Maybe," said Hart. He shrugged. "I mean, if I happen to crave some backwater slum of a planet, or maybe a round of drinks with my cracked up ex plus a side order or trigger happy lackeys? Sure." He laughed. A dry sound, echoing in the large, empty room. "See you around, Jack."

"See you."

Jack watched Hart descend the steps and cross the Hub proper, letting himself out the cage doors, disappearing behind the cogwheel.

And then he was gone. Jack wiped his face with the back of his palm. Kept it there; the pressure something of a comfort. Ianto came up from the medical bay, took one look at him and said, "Want to exchange dinner for drinking?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sure others have tested it in the past, sir, but I think it might actually be possible to replace sleep and food with alcohol."

Jack laughed. "You're on."

Ianto tipped his head, affected a thoughtful expression. "It's not too late. Most of the pubs should still be open."

"It's a date, then," said Jack.

A quirk to Ianto's lips: wry, like he was hiding some unsung amusement. "A date," he agreed. "As promised, I do believe."

"I didn't factor exes into the equation, mind you."

Ianto laughed. "Come on, I'll get your coat."

"What would I do without you, eh?"

"Heaven forbid such a situation should come to light, sir."

"Jack," said Jack.

"Yes," said Ianto, his eyes twinkling. "I know who you are."


	8. The Marionette’s Final Act

**Author note:** Happy New Year everyone! I hope 2009's been good to you. It has to me. I'd like to take this moment to thank the internet gods for NaNoWriMo and chancing upon Galadriel1010, whom I finally met for real in September. Rach, honey, I hope the sugar hasn't fritzed yer screen enough to see this! :D

*raises imaginary champagne flute* Have a good one, people!

* * *

**Part Eight: The Marionette's Final Act**

"_Gwen?"_ Jack's voice chimed through the intercom. _"Hey, Gwen?"_

Gwen shook her head at Tiffany, muttered something about a moment's peace and tapped her ear device. "Yes, Jack?"

"_Me and Ianto are popping out for an hour or so. You, Owen and Tosh alright to hold down the fort?"_

"Can do," said Gwen.

Tiffany whispered, "Where's John?"

Gwen nodded. Into the comm. she said, "Where have you left Vera? Just so we can be sure, you know."

A strange sort of empty silence followed, enhanced by the slight hiss of static through the comm. devices.

"Jack?"

"_John's gone. Hopefully that's the last we'll see of him."_

Gwen mouthed the word 'gone' at Tiffany. "Yeah, alright then Jack. You two have fun." She hung up and took Tiffany's hand again. "Fancy that. Pompous bugger just swans in and out. Holds a few people at gun point. Struts around like he's all that. You'd think he owned the place or something... Tiffany?"

"He'll be back," said Tiffany. _And you won't like the consequences..._

"What makes you so sure?"

Tiffany didn't meet Gwen's searching gaze. Gwen said, "Ah. This another of those fiction things?"

"Yeah."

"Should I ask?" Tiffany stiffened up again. Gwen added, "Do you _want_ me to ask? Sometimes listening helps." She patted Tiffany's hand. Tiffany looked away again.

"Oh, you're going to think I'm crazy," she said with some certainty.

Gwen laughed. "I already do."

Tiffany looked Gwen steady in the eye. "I want to talk to John."

"You're crazy."

"There's more to him than you think," Tiffany urged.

"I don't want to see you at gun point again, Tiffany. I don't want him hurting anyone else. He's a madman!" Gwen dropped her hold on Tiffany's hand. "You know that."

"I know more than you think." Tiffany laughed. No humour in the dry sound. "I'm turning into one of those cryptic characters I hate." She sighed. "Yes, he's mad. But also extremely sane. A different kind of sane. And I want to talk to him."

"He's gone."

"I'll find him?"

"You just said you didn't want to go outside again."

"I was wrong, then."

"Tiffany—"

"Gwen. Please."

Gwen's face fell. She never could resist and honest plea, Tiffany knew. "Fine. If you end up lying unconscious on some floor anywhere, don't come crying to me."

"I won't."

Gwen frowned at Tiffany's back as she walked back up the tunnel corridor.

***

Tosh yawned. Reflected that though most would call this yet another long night, comparatively speaking, where Torchwood was concerned, this was just the norm. All over and over and over again.

And didn't she just love it. Tired as she was, could Tosh see herself anywhere else right now?

Foot steps behind her. Tosh hunched further over her keyboard. Working all along. She'd been working all along. No one could say anything otherwise—

"Tosh," said Gwen, leaning on the back of Tosh's chair. "Do me a favour, would you?"

"Depends," said Tosh.

"Think you can trace John Hart's wrist strap?"

Tosh twisted her chair around. Fixed Gwen with a wary look. "Why?"

Gwen gestured to her right, where Tiffany stood. "Our girl here appears to have found her suicidal streak."

Tiffany waved meekly. Tosh laughed. "If you ever decide to stay, Torchwood would be good for you." Tosh turned back to the screen. "Can't go a day without risking life or limb."

"Or both," said Gwen.

Tosh laughed again. "I'll see what I can do, Tiffany."

"Thanks," said Tiffany. "I appreciate it."

"I still say you're mad for going after him," Gwen told her.

"I think you're fictional. No wait. I _know_ you're fictional, and yet you think I'm mad because of something else?"

"Perhaps we should rate your sanity, or lack thereof, cumulatively as opposed to objectively?" said Tosh. She tapped a few more keys. Pulled her glasses off the top of her head and brought them to her eyes, peering at the small readout on the screen. "Got him."

The rift alert went off. Gwen strode to the next set of computers. "Flare predicted at Bute Park."

"Bute Park?" said Tosh, glancing over. Gwen nodded. "That's where Hart is headed." She consulted her blue map. Flicked from that to CCTV. "He's about halfway there, I reckon. Must be after the flare."

Tiffany looked over Tosh's shoulder. "How can he be halfway there?"

"Fast walker, I guess."

Gwen clapped her hands together. "Owen!"

An echoing voice from the medical bay. "What?"

"Hold down the fort."

Three voices said, "What?"

Gwen ignored them all. Held her hand out to Tiffany. "I'll drive you up. It's not far. Tosh can you coordinate? Pin down his exact position?"

"Did you just use the words pin and position in a sentence about John Hart?" said Tiffany. Tosh snorted a small laugh. Gwen sighed, the sound tired and long suffering.

"You want that lift or not?"

Tiffany took Gwen's hand again. Flashed what she hoped was a bright smile. "Sure thing."

***

Gwen pulled her car up in the tennis court car park. She shot a side long glance to where Tiffany stared out of the window. "Want me to come with—"

"No," said Tiffany. She turned, smile apologetic and bland. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap."

"It's okay."

"It isn't."

Gwen prodded Tiffany's shoulder. "It is." Tiffany poked hers back. "That's more like it." Gwen dug around in her pockets, brought out an ear piece and handed it to Tiffany. "Direct line to Tosh. She can guide you around. This park's pretty big. Don't want you getting lost."

"Thanks." Tiffany unbuckled her seat belt and began to clamber out of the car.

"Be careful?" said Gwen.

"I will. I know all the rules."

Gwen laughed. "I'll wait here, okay?"

"Thanks again."

"No problem."

Tiffany strode off into the dark park, Tosh's quavering voice in her ear.

***

Hart knew he was being followed. Of course he knew. On the one hand too easy to tap into Torchwood's communications – did they ever learn? – and on the other, well, Hart just knew. Some senses had been honed to perfection. Right now there was a tingle at the back of his neck and boy, wasn't Tiffany making her presence known. He ducked behind a thick tree and circled it soundlessly, keeping the girl only just in his sight, ensuring he wouldn't be in hers.

A twig crackled under his booted foot. Hart sent it a downward glare. One covert glance around the trunk to confirm whether Tiffany had or hadn't heard...

"Hi."

"Hmm," said Hart. Couldn't resist adding, "Back for seconds?"

Tiffany, to his delight, rolled her eyes.

"You stalking me is such a lovely reversal of roles, don't you think?" said Hart.

"I wanted to talk to you," said Tiffany. She pulled her earpiece out. "Alone."

He leered. Automatic response. "Yeah?"

"Yes." Tiffany watched him advance with wary eyes. Step after step closing the dim distance between them, and Hart had that predatory look about him again. Right in front of her now. His grey eyes looked black in this half light.

"You wanted to talk?" said Hart. "So talk."

"I... " Tiffany swallowed and tried to remember her reasons for this whole idea. Her brain kept getting distracted somewhat. _God. He shouldn't be this attractive..._ Tiffany shook her head. Focus. She raised her chin, met Hart's eyes with a challenge and said, "I know about Gray."

John froze up for a moment. All his muscles going tense. His calm voice a wrought contrast to the panic inside. "Do you indeed?"

Tiffany nodded.

Conversationally, Hart said, "I could kill you right now, you know. Here in the dark with no one to see. It'd be almost too easy."

Tiffany took a meaningful step backward, and Hart laughed. "I know," she said, once she'd attained what she felt was a much nicer distance between the two of them. "I know you could. But you won't?"

"What, and let you run free with all that knowledge in your head?" Hart's voice was bitter. "Run back to precious Jack, tell him all my secrets, blab to your heart's content and all that."

"I wouldn't blab," Tiffany assured him. There was only so much canon she could mess with. Jack finding out about Hart's agenda this early on? Tiffany didn't like to think what could happen...

Tosh and Owen would still be alive. Torchwood wouldn't have been outnumbered come the finish. Ianto wouldn't have died. Jack wouldn't have ran, ran, ran away—

Foolish folly of a fictional hope. Tiffany forced herself back to the present. "I wouldn't blab, but I might understand," she said.

"Understand?" Ever more bitter, Hart said, "Seems simple enough to me. What's left to understand?"

"Show me your wrist."

Hart cocked an eyebrow, just about visible in the half light. "That your best line?"

"I want to know if he's gotten to you yet," said Tiffany. "Show me your wrist. Please."

Hart, with a defeated snarl, wrenched his sleeve up and showed her his wrist strap. Tiffany took in the fused flesh, and she shuddered, felt sick. Hart tugged his sleeve back down. "Seen enough, or shall I extend this to a full floor show? Sing and dance like a good little marionette while you pull all the strings and tell me about things you can't possibly know?"

"I'm sorry," Tiffany whispered. She smoothed a hand down his wrinkled jacket sleeve. "Really, I am."

"What the fuck have you got to be sorry about?" He ran a hand through his slick hair and glanced away.

"Nothing. Everything." Tiffany mirrored him, wiping strands of hair from her face. She circled him, coming to rest against a tree. Very much in his line of sight. "As an avid fan, my glee over your upcoming suffering has compounded into guilt. You're real, you're here, and you are now, and I'm sorry."

"You sound like some sort of cracked prophet. Going to tell me to beware the Ides of March next?"

A dry laugh. "Maybe."

Hart consulted his wrist strap and huffed. "Look," he said, pacing around to lean on the tree trunk beside her. "Much as I would love to stay and chat and all—"

"The flare?"

"Yep."

"Where?"

"Should be right over there," Hart said, pointing through the trees. Tiffany could just make out the late night shimmer of the river Taff. "In a few minutes."

A golden glow filtered through the branches, sending the shadows that lurked from tree to tree into a strange, illuminated panic. Hart pushed away from the tree and paced toward it, shooting glances at Tiffany over his shoulder. "Well," he said after a few moments, "you coming to see me off?"

Tiffany followed him into the next clearing. Her mouth went dry when she saw the full rift flare, and she had to clutch a branch for support. Hart laughed at her. She ignored him, tried to find words. "That is..."

"Never seen one before?"

"Not in the flesh," said Tiffany. Her eyes felt like saucers they were so wide. "That is just..."

Hart joined her in staring. "Yeah." His next words were anxious, wary. "Look, about Gray—"

"You don't have to explain."

"Thanks, I think." Hart shook himself. "Right. Rift time." He stuck out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Tiffany Summers."

She took the hand, gave it one sharp, squeezing shake. "Likewise." She smiled, and Hart walked across the grass to the flare's opening. He turned. Waved once. Tiffany waved back.

And then...

And then Hart stiffened, half submerged in the tendrils of rift energy. Tiffany could see, even in the dim light and silhouetted by the glow of the flare, the flash of fear cross his face. "Run," he whispered, looking behind her. Too far away now, he started to move out of the grasp of the flare. Too far away and too far in. The tendrils would not release him. "Tiffany, run!" he shouted, pressing buttons on his wrist strap in desperation even as he was sucked further in. "RUN!"

Tiffany whirled. The glow of the rift disappeared from behind her, leaving Tiffany alone in the almost darkness.

But not.

Snarling in front of her. Teeth and mass and screaming. Tiffany was screaming, her limbs freezing her to the spot. She cried out even more as something struck her.

Hard.

Merciless.

And then...

And then came pain. Tiffany whirling down and away into streaked, screeching darkness.


	9. From Under Your Feet

**Author note:** God, the snow at the moment! Pity me, for I am bruised and icy cobbles smell. Also, this chapter? Ha! Because I can. :D

* * *

**Part Nine: From Under Your Feet**

Tiffany always figured herself the type for adventure. That was why she escaped into the fictional world nigh on every night. Saturday evening became a Special Time, and she slowly converted her mother and brother into loving Doctor Who as much as she did.

And Torchwood, of course, though Adrian was too young for that.

Tiffany had always figured herself the type for adventure. That was why it was a such shock for her to discover adventure could be one mean son of a bitch. The fear of certain death actually felt like _fear_.

Tiffany didn't know if she was making sense. She just procrastinating with thoughts, wiling the time away until her consciousness returned. Felt as if she were trapped in some sort of coma.

Trapped inside herself.

Voices nearby. She craned to listen with a head that couldn't move, with ears that wouldn't respond; a mind that wouldn't focus. And she couldn't make head nor tail of it. Gibberish. Or maybe—

Okay, thought Tiffany._ Now aliens. What fun. I'd like for this entire hallucination to be over now, 'kay?_

More gibberish. Angry voices. Something jabbed her in the side. A finger? A knife? It felt sharp. Could be a claw, suggested Tiffany's imagination.

Tiffany told her imagination to get stuffed. She was panicked enough as it was, thanks very much.

_Ow!_

Needle. Definitely a needle of some sort. The prickling sensation stole out from her hip, up and around to encircle her entire chest, then it spread down to her legs and out to the very tips of her fingers.

She would have screamed if she'd known where her mouth was.

The prickling reached a peak. Heavy weight on her forehead. They were putting something on her. Sharp sensation pushing in through her temples, forcing its way into her brain. Tiffany had the strangest feeling of her brain being on fire. Or full of pop rocks. More like pop rocks than fire. Pop rocks on fire?

She blinked.

She blinked?

She could move!

Right, Tiffany thought, first things first.

"Get the fuck away from me you fucking fucking maniacs!" Light and sight filtered slowly through from her dulled eyes. Large shapes loomed over her. "Get away!"

Gibberish, this time sounding confused. A smaller shape came forward and said, "There's no need to swear."

"You— you can talk?"

The shape took focus. And Tiffany shuddered. "Of course we can talk," said the hulk of a monster. "And there really is no need to swear."

"What? Of course there's a need!" Tiffany looked down at her strapped down limbs. "You've ruddy abducted me! Am I meant to take that calmly? Offer you tea and biscuits? Don't come fucking near me you—"

The shape pressed something on the band on Tiffany's forehead, and Tiffany fell back into her trapped, unconscious drifting. The shape turned to its larger companion. "Talk a lot, doesn't she?"

The large shape grunted something about hypocrites, and the smaller squeaked a laugh.

"I'll go tell the captain she's ready," said the smaller.


End file.
